


Burning in Your Soul

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chris coming on Peter's face, Face-Fucking, M/M, Peter choking on Chris' dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Peter turns up at Chris' and goes to his knees</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning in Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arabwel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/gifts).



> Beta'ed by Temaris.
> 
> So, Arabwel made the following comment on Tumblr: _there is never enough fic of Peter Hale choking on Chris Argent’s dick._
> 
> Hope this helps, m'dear ;)

"What did you just say?" Because Chris is sure that the words he just heard can't have been the ones out of Peter's mouth. Peter can't have come around to his apartment just to ask that. Only, he's not entirely sure how they could have been something different, not entirely sure how he could have misheard--

"I said, I want you to choke me on your dick, Argent."

Chris just stares at him, because, yes, it wouldn't be the first time Peter Hale's gotten close to his dick, but so far it's all been frantic hand jobs in the Preserve. It's been Chris jerking off in the shower at the thought of bending Peter over and fucking into him.

What Peter's asking implies a level of trust, on both their sides, that Chris hadn't been aware was there. It's insane of Chris to even think of putting his cock anywhere near Peter Hale's mouth, anywhere near Peter Hale's _teeth_. But his dick's twitching with the thought of it, twitching at the thought of sliding into hot and wet, at the thought of seeing Peter on his knees and swallowing Chris down.

Only, maybe Chris has been taking too long to answer, taking too long to say anything, because there's a look on Peter's face that's carefully blank and he's turning away, walking towards the door. Chris grabs Peter's arm before he can go any further, fingers digging in to flesh in an effort to keep Peter where he is.

Peter looks down at the grip Chris has on him, eyes bluer than they should be, soft snarl on his lips, and Chris thinks that what's he about to do is monumentally insane, but, dear god, he wants it.

"I didn't say no."

Peter raises his eyes to meet Chris', ice bright blue fading. And whatever he sees in Chris' gaze has him relaxing, has him nodding.

"Here?" Peter asks, motioning around him.

Chris shakes his head. "Bedroom." Because Allison may be at Lydia's and not due back for hours, but face-fucking Peter in the hall is just asking for someone to walk in. And Chris wants to savour this, wants to not be on constant guard listening for someone coming to the door. Because he doesn't know if this is a one-off, doesn't know if this is just something Peter needs to get out of his system and, if it is, then he wants to remember it.

Peter follows him through into the bedroom, looking around the room as he steps inside. And Chris is expecting some sort of comment, is expecting dripping sarcasm about the paint colour, about the bed not being made, about the clothes piled up on the chair in the corner, but Peter just nods, Nods, like something has passed muster, before he turns to Chris.

Chris is just about to ask where Peter wants to do this, _how_ Peter wants to do this, when Peter's dropping to his knees in front of him. Dropping to his knees and reaching out for Chris' belt. And Chris is already half-hard, the sight of Peter on his knees before him sending blood rushing towards his dick.

Peter has Chris' belt open now, the buckle hanging down slightly as he drops it. And Chris thinks Peter's about to move to his jeans, but he doesn't. He leans forward, nuzzling at the denim, nuzzling at the hardness starting to fill out behind the fabric.

Chris' hands are moving before he can think about it, moving to slide through Peter's hair, to run across his scalp and hold him gently in place as he feels the denim getting spit-slick under Peter's mouth.

Peter hums softly when Chris' hands hold his head, so Chris tightens his grip, feeling Peter almost purr under him.

Chris is fully hard, the warmth of Peter's mouth reaching him even through the two layers of fabric between them.

Peter continues to mouth at Chris as he moves his hands to Chris' waist, fingers gripping the zipper on Chris' jeans and lowering it slowly. Lowering it before hooking his fingers into Chris' belt loops and tugging his jeans down carefully. Peter keeps nuzzling at Chris' cock as he pulls Chris' jeans down to mid-thigh. Keeps nuzzling until all that's between Chris' dick and Peter's mouth is the fabric of Chris' boxers, straining to hold his cock inside.

Peter pulls back slightly, and Chris loosens his hold to let Peter move. Loosens his hold, even if it's just an illusion of control, even if he knows that Peter can break it whenever he wants. Raising his head to meet Chris' eyes, Peter slips his fingers into the waistband of Chris' boxers, carefully pulling them down, carefully lifting the elastic over Chris' cock to expose the hardness to the cool air. He pulls Chris' boxers to rest on his jeans, his hands moving to hold Chris' thighs.

There's a beat, two, and Chris suddenly thinks that this has all been a massive joke, that Peter's going to get to his feet and leave Chris standing, hard and wanting, in the middle of his bedroom. But then Peter moves, pressing a soft kiss to Chris' cockhead before working his way down the shaft, tongue flicking out at the tight skin as he goes.

Peter licks his way back up once he reaches the base of Chris' cock, once he nuzzles quickly into the hair there. He meets Chris' gaze again, keeps their eyes locked as he leans forward, lips open, and takes the head of Chris' cock into his mouth.

And wolves run hot, Chris knows this, but, fuck, he'd never imagined it would be like this. He can't stop the groan that comes from him, can't stop it from edging out of his lips as Peter runs his tongue over Chris' cock, flicks it across his slit. His hands tighten in Peter's hair of their own accord, and Chris feels an answering moan come from Peter, feels it vibrate through his dick.

Peter moves forward slowly, and it makes Chris want to force him down, makes him want to pull Peter onto his cock until he's sliding into Peter's throat.

_"I want you to choke me on your dick."_

The words are running around his mind, and he pulls sharply on Peter's head, tugging him down further onto his cock. And he expects Peter to glare at him, expects Peter to pull back, but he doesn't. Peter's eyes flutter shut briefly and a shudder runs through him into Chris.

And Chris hadn't thought he could get harder, but he was wrong. His grip on Peter tightens further, knuckles turning white. And he knows it has to be painful, knows if it was anyone else but Peter on their knees for him, they'd have smacked his hands away. But it _is_ Peter, gaze heavy as he looks up at Chris, barely a ring of blue visible around a pool of black.

Chris' hips move carefully, pushing his cock further into Peter's mouth, pushing until he feels his cockhead slip into Peter's throat, until he feels Peter's lips at the base of his cock. He pulls back quickly when Peter gags, pulls back, only to feel pinpricks at his thigh. Peter's claws digging in, not when Chris had gagged him, but when he'd stopped.

Chris snaps his hips forward again, holding himself still for long counts as he blocks Peter's throat, blocks him from breathing. Holds it for three, four, five, before he moves back, admiring the slight flush to Peter's skin as he breathes heavier than before.

And now Chris has started, he can't stop. Drives himself into Peter's throat, holding still each time, feeling Peter trying to work around him, trying to fight his gag reflex. He's never wanted to do this before, never wanted to choke someone on his dick, never wanted to feel them fight for air, but he wants it now. Wants it, with Peter on his knees, gagging and choking around his cock.

He hopes this isn't a one-time thing. Because now he's felt how this feels, felt how Peter feels, he doesn't think he could go back to what they had. Doesn't think he could go back to furtive handjobs against trees when he knows what Peter's mouth is like.

He's holding himself in Peter's throat longer each time, hips thrusting in as he feels Peter swallow convulsively around him. Peter's gasping for breath each time Chris pulls back, but Chris doesn't let him recover, doesn't let him pull in the air that he needs before Chris is driving back in, slipping back down Peter's throat, to hold himself still again.

There are tear tracks down the sides of Peter's face, forced out of him each time Chris gags him. And Chris thinks he should feel guilty, should feel horrified, but he doesn't. He wants to ruin Peter, wants to wreck the wolf on his cock.

Chris can feel his orgasm building in him, can feel his balls tighten. And as much as he wants to come down Peter's throat, he wants to see Peter wearing his mark. He pulls back suddenly, the whimper of loss that comes from Peter making something flash through him, hot and possessive. He moves one of his hands from Peter's head, wraps it around his dick and starts stripping himself roughly, precome and Peter's spit slicking the way. The hand still holding Peter tugs the wolf's head back, angling him in front of Chris' dick. And Peter's looking at him, still pulling deep gulps of air into his lungs, face red and blotchy, and it's the most fucking perfect sight Chris has ever seen.

"Close your eyes," he manages to gasp out before it's too late.

Chris groans as he comes, ropes of come shooting out to land on Peter's face, to land in his mouth. Splatters of white marking Peter up as his, permanently and indelibly. Peter shudders, sharp and sudden, and Chris has to tighten his grip to keep Peter where he is, last spurts of come still dripping from Chris' cock. He shudders, sharp and sudden, and it takes a heartbeat for Chris to realise that Peter just came. That Peter Hale, kneeling and covered in Chris' come, just came in his jeans from nothing more than the feel of Chris' cock in his mouth, of Chris' come on his face.

Letting go of his dick, Chris reaches out and cups Peter's face, rubbing his thumb over Peter's cheek and slicking a glob of come across his face, rubbing it further into his skin.

Peter is shaking, eyes still closed and minute tremors running through him. He leans forward, his forehead resting against Chris' thigh, and all Chris can think is _Mine_. All Chris can think as his grip on Peter's hair eases, and his fingers stroke through the strands is that he doesn't want to let the wolf go. And as Peter rubs his face carefully against Chris' leg, rubs their combined scent back into Chris' skin, he thinks Peter will be fine with that.


End file.
